


Land and Sea, Wherever You Go, That's Where I'll Be

by sweetalnazar



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28854579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetalnazar/pseuds/sweetalnazar
Summary: A collection of small ficlets about my fan apprentice, Mine!Non-chronological, never really the same AU, just for funsies. Mostly Asra/Mine, plus some other OCs and maybe eventually my main ot4 of Asra/Mine/Muriel/Portia. Other ships may make cameos.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Kudos: 3





	1. Asra's Tent

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, finally decided to compile my smaller Mine fics into one Big Boi. Hope you enjoy it, friends :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a certain tent in the shop which has never been used, yet always maintained with the utmost care. Mine finally works up the courage to ask Asra about it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw some peeps doing Asra triggering MC’s catatonic state, so gonna jump on that bandwagon. Featuring my fan apprentice, Mine!

Asra never went camping, that Mine was sure of. There was only one tent in the shop and it never left the building.

Yet, no matter how busy he was, every month the tent was taken down from their shared wardrobe without fail.

He would clean it and check for damages, handling the tent like a newborn baby. Once that was done, he would renew the spells from the previous month, and finish off with magic that gave the tent a glossy shine.

“Why?” Mine had asked.

With a secretive smile, he would reply, “Just in case.”

Maybe it was for a ‘just in case’ situation. The shop could burn down, forcing the two of them to live in the woods. They would need a tent in that case.

But the look in his eyes as he held the tent… There was something else.

On a certain tent-cleaning day, Mine mustered the courage to sit beside him.

“Yes?” Asra said.

“I, I want to watch. Is that OK?”

“Of course.”

He hummed as he worked, a gentleness in his expression. His smile was so soft, so…happy.

“Are you happy, Asra?”

Asra blinked in surprise. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, I think I am.”

“Cleaning the tent makes you happy?”

He chuckled. “You could say that. This tent was a gift from a very precious person. It makes me happy to take care of their hard work.”

“They made it themself?” Mine oohed. “It is beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?”

The designs were colorful and swirling, reminding Mine of piles of rainbow leaves dancing through the wind. A bit too flashy for Mine, but Asra loved those kind of designs.

He held out the tent. “Do you want to touch it?”

Mine was silent, before slowly nodding. Asra had never let them touch the tent before. They held their breath as they rubbed their fingers against the fabric.

It was rough, and of good quality. Made to last, and definitely waterproof.

Fashionable and practical, whoever made it had put plenty of thought into their creation.

“The person who made this cared a lot about you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“I can tell. This was made with love.”

“Do you remember then?”

“Remember what?”

“Who made this tent.” Asra placed his hand on theirs, smiling gently. “Six years ago, you gave it to me.”

A shock passed through Mine. They clenched the tent in their hands as their head began to throb.

_I remember!_

Looking for skins to make the tent, mixing the colors for the paints. Drafting dozens of designs, wondering what Asra would like.

_I hope he sleeps well. I hope he’s safe._

Always mixing in wishes and prayers as they worked. The world was dangerous, but maybe the tent could keep him safe.

Finally, a wave of excitement.

_If only tomorrow could come right now!_

So excited, they had been so excited to give the tent to him. To see him again…

“Mine?” Asra’s voice was thick with concern, and so far away.

“Asra!” Mine managed to gasp. They could barely breathe; it felt like their throat was closing up.

They could hear Asra calling for them again, fainter this time. They tried to reach out to him, but everything was too fuzzy, too painful.

Then, the world turned dark.

The tent dropped from their hands, rolling to a stop by Asra’s chair.

“Mine?” he said, his voice trembling. He grasped their shoulders, right as their legs gave way.

They were still breathing and their body was unhurt. But when Asra checked their face, Mine’s warm brown eyes were now unblinking and cold.

Asra fought back tears. “You weren’t ready,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mine.”

Without another word, he raised his hand to their forehead.

Once more, it was time for them to forget.

And tomorrow, he would make sure Mine never saw that tent again.


	2. I Trust You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's normal at this point: Mine gets into scuffles and fights, Asra deals with the aftermath. Except this time, the two of them are going to talk about what this arrangement means for them both

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honest and open communication is my kink tbh, so yall get to read about it

It had become a weekly tradition at this point, for Mine to come back with a black eye, a bruise, and often, much worse.

Their knuckles were scraped and there was a fresh bruise at the corner of their mouth. One eye was ringed with purple, the other had a long cut above it.

Asra bit back a sigh, as he sat them down on the couch.

“Do you still have all your teeth?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Any bones broken? Any sprains?”

“No. But my shoulder hurts.”

Asra leaned over to check. Around their shoulder blades, a few bruises spotted their skin. He ran his hand down their back, checking for more injuries.

He relaxed upon finding there weren’t any more hidden beneath their shirt.

“Let’s get started,” he said. They both sat cross-legged on the sofa, knees touching so he could face them properly.

As gently as he could, he lifted Mine’s chin. He traced the corner of their mouth, resisting the urge to run his thumb along their lips. The bruise faded away.

“I’m sorry, Asra.”

Asra paused, blinking in surprise. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because your eyes look so sad.”

The smile nearly fell from his face, but he quickly composed himself. “I’d be sadder if you were hiding this from me.” He gave them a cheery grin. “It’s fine.”

He moved to touch the cut now.

“It’s not though,” Mine mumbled.

Of course, Mine would see through him.

He stroked the cut, his hand then dropping to their black eye. “I just… I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

Mine didn’t reply. The silence between the two of them hung heavy in the air.

Their face now all healed, he took their hand in his.

“Asra.”

He looked up, meeting their serious, yet earnest, gaze.

“I’m, I’m going to keep doing this.”

Getting into trouble, getting into fights. Getting themself battered and hurt, all because they wanted to help.

“I know,” he said quietly, letting his resignation slip into his tone.

“But I don’t want you to worry.”

He chuckled. “Mine, I think I won’t ever stop worrying about you.”

“What can I do then? So you won’t be sad?”

Mine stared at him with such sincerity that he could feel himself melting. He could never resist those lovely brown eyes.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. _Stay with me, here, where it’s safe_ , he wanted to say. But he couldn’t do that to Mine, he could never bring himself to trap them. No matter how much they worried him.

“I’ll learn to fight better. I’ll work harder so I can handle the trouble better when it comes.”

“Mine…” He brushed a stray lock of hair behind their ear, and Mine caught his hand, pressing it to their cheek. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of their skin. “I think you can take care of yourself just fine. You’ve gotten into worse trouble, but you always find a way.”

They came back with injuries most of the time sure, but at least they had come home and in one piece.

“If you really think I can do it, then I’ll keep going. But Asra-” The solemness in their voice made him open his eyes, “you’ll stop me, right? If I go too far?”

He would have preferred to stop them at the slightest hint of trouble but Mine looked so serious, so determined, that all he could do was agree. “I will.”

Mine smiled, and rested their cheek in his palm. “OK, I trust you.”

He froze, but they didn’t notice.

If Mine trusted him, well, what could he do other than return that trust? The world was dangerous and cruel, but he would have to believe they could handle it. And if it turned out they couldn’t, then he would be there to catch them.

“Asra?”

“Yes, Mine?”

“Thanks for always being there for me. I’m glad you’re here.”

A warm feeling bubbled up in Asra’s chest and he pulled them in for a hug. Mine didn’t resist, wrapping their arms around his waist.

He rested his chin on their head. “Me too.”

_I’m glad you’re here with me, and I’m going to trust you too._


	3. What Colour Today?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra loves the color of Mine's hair, every single one of them

“I love your hair,” Mine said, and he smiled.

“I love yours too,” Asra said, though he didn’t understand why they did.

His hair was white, plain and unchanging.

Their hair was the color of trees, of the sea, of their pretty brown eyes. One day their hair was streaked with the colors of the sunset, the next a deep amethyst.

At first, he thought it changed with their mood (did red mean joy, or anger? Was blue sorrow, or calm?)

And perhaps there was a grain of truth to that, the same way people chose the colors of their outfits according to their moods, that was how they chose the colors of their hair.

“What color today?” they asked.

Blue and gold, so the weather would be nice and sunny for their picnic.

It rained.

“What color today?” they asked.

Pink and orange, so the two of them would wake up in time for the sunrise.

Both of them missed it.

But that didn’t mean it was all bad.

On that rainy day, the two of them found shelter in a little antique store, cracking jokes about the artifacts and making the shopkeep nervous.

They both woke up in time for breakfast and sang a duet together.

Even if their plans didn’t work out, it was always nice to be togehter.

“What color today, you think?” they asked, twirling a lock of ordinary dark brown hair waiting to be changed.

He smiled. “How about white?”

The tips turned silver, and purple, and they grinned at him. “What do you think?”

He kissed the top of their head. “Perfect.”


	4. A Question of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little pre-amnesia thing, featuring Mine's aunt, Melaka!

Every inch of Mine seemed to be made for touching. The round, soft rolls of their stomach; the tenderness of their upper arms; those smooth, chubby cheeks. Hugging Mine felt so comfortable, like sinking into a pile of pillows.

How could someone like that not be touched?

Mine was made to be touched, and loved. That was why everyone’s expression got a bit brighter, their hearts a little lighter, each time they came across Mine.

Or maybe that was just him.

Every touch he gave them, they returned it. He held their hand, they squeezed it back. He leaned on their shoulder, they’d press themself closer. 

Without thinking, without wondering, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

If he kissed them...would they kiss him back?

Mine looked up from their book, comfortable amidst the pillows on the couch. “Hmm? Whatcha say, Asra?”

“Do, do you think––" His eyes darted away to the potion on the table in front of him and he began stirring vigorously, making the top bubble. He paused, letting the liquid settle. "––in this world, there are people that are meant to be loved?”

“Oh, definitely. Babies!”

He laughed, caught off-guard. “Everyone’s been a baby at some point though.”

“Exactly!” Their smile was brilliant, heart-stoppingly so. “I think everyone is meant to be loved, and love in return, don’t you think?”

* * *

When Asra had left, Mine glanced at the counter, where their aunt Melaka sat, her expression sly and teasing. “What?”

“To love or be loved is a good question for you, _Kaseh_.”

Mine laughed, as they stood up and made their way to the bookshelf. “Don’t use that name, it sounds weird.”

“Is someone with ‘love’ in their name a person meant to love or be loved?”

“Maybe it’s both,” they shrugged, placing the book back in its place.

“Hmph,” Melaka said, rolling her eyes. “If that were true…” 

_You and Asra would have been happy together a long time ago._

“Hmm, whatcha say, auntie?”

“Nothing at all.”

Maybe some day her dense little nibling would see the spark they shared with her student, and see how happy they would be together. But for now, it was probably for the best to let things run their course.

Melaka leaned back in her chair. “So when are you going to inherit my shop already?”

“Whaaat? You know I can’t do that, I gotta be chief, lead the tribe and stuff.”

“Not like your parents wouldn’t let you be a magician if you just asked.”

“I am already a magician, but like...it doesn’t need to be a full-time thing. Besides, I already know what I’m gonna do for the rest of my life.”

“Lead the Matahari clan?”

“Yep! Just like ibuya.”

Despite their obsession with all things magical, despite how much they loved the open road more than just staying at home. Despite all that….

“You really are thick sometimes, eh, Mine?”

“Huh?! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Melaka sighed.

_Maybe some day._

Far, far into the future. Maybe some day, there was a happy ending waiting for Mine and Asra.


	5. Meeting Your Soulmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmates aren't always romantic. A story of the first meeting between Mine and their best friend, Safira

_Hey, how old were we when we first met?_

_Four, right?_

_Not five? Wait, how do you know?_

_It’s the first––_

_Oh, the first year we danced together!  
_

_Yeah. We were four then, right?_

_Yeah, yeah, I think so._

_Didn’t we used to call you something else back then? Not Mine....It was like Yaz-something?_

_Hah, you mean Yaya?_

* * *

“Come now, Yaya.” Hari nudged the small figure clinging to their thigh with a death-like grip.

Yaya shook their head. “‘Buya.”

“You said you wanted to dance, didn’t you? Look, all the other little ones are.”

Yaya looked up, one arm still wrapped around Hari’s leg, the other outstretched towards them. “‘Buya, ‘buya, up.”

“No, I’m not carrying you. Come on, go play, I mean, dance. It’ll be fun!”

Yaya’s lip trembled and Hari briefly wondered if they should scoop their eldest up, although their husband had warned against it, saying it would spoil Yaya too much if Hari gave in to their every whim.

“Hari!” They looked up to see another parent coming towards them.

“Taka!” Hari moved forward to hug him, only for Yaya to whine at the action. They stood in place, smiling apologetically.

“Hi, Yaya,” he greeted, warm and gentle.

Yaya buried their face in Hari’s pant leg.

“Yaya, you can’t do that. Say hi back to Uncle Taka.”

They mumbled something, gripping tighter.

Hari sighed, while Taka laughed.

“They’re a little shy, it can’t be helped. Our oldest is the same way. She gets fussy if my husband leaves her with anyone else.”

Hari nodded in understanding. “Yaya gets along fine with the adults in the nursery tent, but they get shy with anyone new, even the babies.”

“Sounds to me like birds of a feather. What do you say to a little introduction?”

“I say yes. Give me a moment–” They glanced down to their oldest. “Do you want to go up, Yaya?”

Their eyes glittered and they scrambled to grab Hari’s arms.

“Whoa, slow down there, sayang, ibuya’s not going anywhere.” Hari scooped Yaya up, and they snuggled close to their parent’s chest, sighing contentedly. Hari shook their head. “Manja betul.”

The three of them made their way through the tent of children and adults trying to teach them the steps and lines for the upcoming performance.

The first anniversary of the tribe’s formation was coming up soon and such a momentous occasion had to be met with the proper gusto. Feasting, gifts, performances, Hari had wanted all of that to celebrate their first successful year as a tribe together.

Where Hari was from celebrations meant crowds of thousands, tables of food and drink as far as the eye could see, and a variety of performances and colors and costumes that lasted days. Here, in this new place, in this new life, it was a little different.

It was smaller than what Hari were used to, though it was considered grand for most of the tribe.

There would be a feast enough to feed everyone, but only for one night, and there wasn’t enough money to buy luxurious gifts for everyone so Hari had hoped to make up for it through the performances.

Many of the tribespeople could dance or knew some form of dance or another, and plenty could sing, but none of them were like the troupes and singers Hari had seen.

Still, there was something endearing about the way everyone tried hard regardless. There was laughter and yells and it was just a fun little thing, just something for this tribe and no one else. There was something nice about that.

And at the very least, they had some semi-experienced puppeteers so the performances wouldn’t be all that terrible.

Taka stopped by a group of younger children, the oldest looking around six, who were making jerky and stilted movements as they tried to learn the dance.

“Safira? Safira, where’d you go?”

All the children looked to be enjoying themselves too much to hear anyone call for them.

“Doesn’t that look fun, Yaya?” Hari whispered into their ear

Yaya shook their head and Hari chuckled.

“Ah, there she is.” Taka pointed to a girl dancing a little ways from the others.

Like most of the younger children, her shirt was big so she could grow into it, but on her wrists and in her hair were leaves and twigs and some colorful string, twisted together to make accessories.

The other children were enthusiastic but there was a determination to her dance. While yes, it was about awkward as the others, her expression was serious and she added more flourish to some of her movements, repeatedly going ‘Hiya’ after certain steps

“She seems quite, spirited.”

“Isn’t she? Takes after her papa. Safira!”

Still no answer, but then again, she was attempting to twirl on one foot. She was probably focusing too hard to notice.

“Let’s wait for her to finish,” Hari said.

“Saf!”

Both adults looked down to the small child pointing towards Safira. Yaya glanced at Hari, their eyes wide and sparkling with excitement.

“Saf!”

“Nak menari dengan Safira ke?”

They nodded and gestured for Hari to put them down.

“Alright then.” They lowered Yaya down and they jumped out of Hari’s arms, racing to Safira.

“Saf!” they said loudly.

Safira stopped this time, frowning at Yaya. Hari moved a step forward, in case Yaya had to be pulled from a fight.

“Um, n-nari, you, uhhh….” Yaya gesticulated wildly, oh, maybe they were imitating Safira’s movements?

She seemed to understand. “Menari,” she nodded and continued dancing.

Except it was slower this time and she was watching Yaya. Ah, she was trying to show them the steps.

Yaya eagerly followed her lead. Hari wasn’t sure whether they were clumsy or not, both children seemed to be awkward to them, but Yaya was giggling like they had heard the best joke in the world and Saf’s movement had gotten even more dramatic.

Soon, the two of them were spinning and twirling with each other, dancing steps only the two of them knew

“They look cute together,” Hari said thoughtfully. “Does Safira stay in the nursery tent?”

“Nope, says she’s too big for it,” Taka grinned. “But I’m sure she wouldn’t mind coming over some time to play with Yaya.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

There was a shriek and everyone turned to see Safira covering Yaya’s mouth while their body shook with laughter.

“They get along very well,” Taka commented, his features soft.

Hari nodded, their expression likely mirroring his. “I think the two of them will make good friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes:**  
>  · buya is an amalgam of ‘abuya’ & ‘ibu’, terms used for father & mother respectively. The term was created by me since there is no gender neutral word for parent in Malay
> 
> · Taka is not actually related to Mine/Yaya. It is simply a norm for children or younger folks to refer to middle-aged ppl or ppl of a certain age range as aunt or uncle
> 
> · Sayang means ‘love’ and is used as a petname here
> 
> · ‘Manja’ is a term generally used for children or childish things. It can be used to refer to the way a child can be clingy and pampered, such as asking to be picked up and refusing to let go of their parents. The word can be negative or positive depending on the context.
> 
> · ‘Betul’ translated literally means ‘right’ or ‘correct’, but here it’s used to mean truly, as in ‘truly kind’ or ‘very kind. When Hari says ‘manja betul’, they’re commenting on how clingy Mine is, but in an affectionate, tired way
> 
> · ‘Nak menari dengan Safira ke?’ translates to ‘Do you wanna dance with Safira?’. ‘Menari’ means dance and when Mine/Yaya says ‘Nari’, they are actually trying to say ‘Menari’


	6. A Change From Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angsty little thing about hair colors :3c

They knew how to do hair now. Hyperfocusing for four months did that to a person. 

So it could become long, short, poofy, curly, straight, whatever they want. No more hours in the bathroom with an assortment of products. Or trying––failing–– random glamor spells. Just a thought, and some magic, and it’s done. 

But that was not the problem. 

They rolled over on the bed, pulling at the tips of their now-hip-length hair. 

It was _purple._

Their hair has had purple dusting it ever since the morning where Mine woke up in the space where Asra should have been. He had left, gone, and they were alone and sad and missing him. 

Well at first they had missed him. They had missed him quite a lot. 

But one week turned to two, then three and now it was a month, and hadn’t they worn purple long enough already?

Sure, Mine was sad and lonely and longed to reach out, but Asra... 

He was always content to have his secrets, to run away with them, and let the chasm between the two of them grow wider and wider until Mine feared not even the whole world would be enough to fill that gap. 

He loves you, he cares for you, one part of them tried to reason.

_But he’s not coming back. He’s hurt me._

_I HATE—_

They pushed that thought away before it grew into something more. No, no, they did not feel that, they were mad but they didn’t resent him. 

Asra talked it with them after all. They both had come to an understanding, him letting Mine do as they please with little interference and in turn, they would turn a blind eye to his habits. 

An equal understanding. 

But for how much longer?

How long would this charade, of their little tango around the truth, continue? How long would Mine have to wait here, uncertain and alone, for nights and nights on end?

Well, it could be he had some very good reasons for taking so long this time. Maybe he was just busy, maybe he had lots of other things, more important things, in his life going on.

If only Mine could be a part of that life too, rather than just an afterthought on his to-do list.

“I need to stop,” they said aloud, sitting up. 

Asra had his own life? Fine. He didn’t want to include Mine? _Fine._

They couldn’t rely on him forever. They couldn’t keep being like _this,_ just sitting here, missing him terribly as if they had nothing better to do. 

If he had their own life, then Mine had theirs too. Their world didn’t revolve around him.

And with a touch of magic, their hair shortened to barely touching their shoulders, the purple making way for greens and blues and pinks. 

But not purple. Not for a while. 

_(Not until the next time they miss him.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> Also I've been wanting to take some Valentine themed prompts, so if you have any fun suggestions (particularly for Asra, Portia and/or Muriel), feel free to drop them at my Tumblr: magicalthotmims :)


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